


seaward on the waves

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Gen, Short One Shot, unrepentant pretentiousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:02:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3065423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeyne and Theon at the beach.</p>
<p>(the wind weaves strands of salt into the air and it feels like home)</p>
            </blockquote>





	seaward on the waves

It’s just a matter of one foot in front of the other. The stones are hard and cold beneath his maimed feet, shifting capriciously benath his meagre weight, trying to upset his balance. He will not fall.

It’s just a matter of one foot in front of the other. He walks, slowly, like a colt trying to find his feet, but he walks, and he draws level with the water’s edge, and he smiles.

It’s just a matter of one foot in front of the other. The sea stretches before him, and unbroken grey mirror of the grey sky above, her lithe body the only figure that breaks it. Waves break against the shore, against the black rocks that jut out from the water like the skeleton remains of a shipwreck, like broken bones dyed black.

It’s just a matter of one foot in front of the other. The waves lap at his ankles, cold and bone-chilly, resonating within him like a long-forgotten song, and he finds he still knows the words. The wind weaves strands of salt into the air and it feels like home, in a way, the beach, the sea, the water. Her hand is small and cold in his maimed one, but that, too, feels like home.

It’s just a matter of one foot in front of the other. Jeyne smiles and he smiles back, broken teeth and all, and they clutch each others’ hands just a little bit tighter.

The water’s up to his knees now.

‘Let’s go home,’ she says.

It’s just a matter of one foot in front of the other.

**Author's Note:**

> I was going through my old English stuff and I found my copy of T.S. Eliot's works. The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock is probably my favourite work of his, and I find it strangely appropriate, in many ways, for Theon. Of course, this has nothing to do with that poem at all, save for the very inspiring imagery in the final stanzas.


End file.
